It struck me that already Teddy must be hearing my approach. My luminous wrist-watch showed it to be now past ten. Curious how very quickly time passes in the air if there is but little wind, and one’s engine is running well. It only seemed as though we had left Holly Farm a few minutes before. Since we had left I had spoken no word with my well-beloved, the roar of the exhaust and the shrill whistling of the icy wind preventing conversation. Yet I could see her well-wrapped-up figure silhouetted against the sky as, seated alert and watchful, she was now on the look out for Teddy’s signal.
That we were flying far too high I suddenly realised, therefore I planed down to about 900 feet, and at that altitude we sailed over Mayfield which was, however, in complete darkness, save for a cycle travelling along its main street, and a couple of lights at the station whither the green and red signals had guided us. Passing Mayfield I still descended to 600 feet, and then again circled round, but neither of us could discern any flashing signal.
Teddy had with him a strong electric torch, and we had arranged that he should give me a number of “shorts” followed by a number of “longs” in order to tell me that all was clear.
But we could discern no signal!
Still lower I descended and circled about until I had actually picked out the pointed spire of Stockhurst church.
Yet there was still no sign.
Roseye saw how puzzled I had become, and extended her palms to denote dismay. What could have gone wrong? Where was the hitch?
Back I turned over Mayfield again, and once more took certain bearings, for night-flying is always fraught with many difficulties, and one can so very easily get lost. I consulted both map and compass very carefully, satisfying myself at last that I had made no mistake.
I had certainly picked up Stockhurst. But where was the agreed sign?
Something surely must have happened! Why did not Teddy show us his light?